All You Wanted
by Punky Misfit
Summary: Just how long can Booth hide his mysterious deadly illness from Brennan?
1. Chapter 1

"So Mr. Beddington, when was the last time you saw your daughter?" Agent Seely Booth asked in a slow, almost sleepy sounding voice.

Mr. Beddington, the man in question, raised his head from its fixed stare on the floor. "Thursday night, sir."

Sir? The man was old enough to be Booth's father. The politeness seemed staged. From what Booth could tell, anyway. He was focusing hard on concentrating. But the task was proving to be more and more difficult with each breath he took.

He and his partner, Forensic Anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan, or Bones as he affectionately called her, had arrived at Mr. Beddington's house after the remains of his daughter were discovered washed up in a public fountain at a local mall. Since no one, including her father, had even reported the girl missing, starting at home seemed like the best place to begin.

"Why didn't you report her missing?" Again, he had trouble speaking. Just listening made him sound like he was drunk. Next to him he felt Brennan elbow him gently in the ribs. So much for hiding it from his partner.

"She's been known to take off sometimes. I thought she'd be home in a few days."

Booth was about to respond when he felt it. An episode was starting. "Excuse me," he murmured, getting up. He tried to ignore Brennan's flabbergasted stare as he hurried outside from the house. On the front lawn the gasping began to start. Frantically, he searched for a place to fall apart privately. There were no hiding places. In desperation he settled on the small strip of lawn by the side of the house. Stumbling, he made his way over.

For months Booth had been battling an illness. One morning he had woken with a coughing spell. It hadn't let up until he'd passed out from the lack of oxygen. At that time he hadn't thought much of it. But as it happened again and again he sought out doctor's care. Perhaps he thought he was mistaking the coughing for asthma. He'd never had it before, but he knew people could develop it late in life.

Asthma it was not. In fact, for the first few months, no one could diagnose him. The symptoms grew worse. Pain began first in his chest, then shooting hot pin and needles down his arms. He went to doctor after doctor. Tried treatment after treatment. Nothing helped.

During all this time he continued working, not telling anyone. First he wanted answers for himself. The few answers he had at last gotten were not what he had been expecting. Booth was dying. A strange viral disease that no doctor had seemed to have seen before was attacking his body. Disbelief hit him hard. For weeks he lived in denial. At last he couldn't repute it any longer. He could feel himself declining. Suddenly he had a hard time keeping up with Brennan. Suspects were escaping when he gave chase. But he wouldn't let himself give up. Working allowed him to feel like nothing was wrong.

Because of that he kept it to himself. If he truly was fading away then he wanted to keep his secret to himself for as long as possible. He struggled to hide it from his friends and colleagues. Especially Brennan. The two had a very close friendship. He didn't want her seeing him suffer. Surprising to him she hadn't seemed to notice a thing. And he was grateful.

The pain never went away. It was always there, constantly bubbling beneath the surface. Sometimes it was a dull ache. Other times it roared like a ferocious lion. Mostly Booth was able to conceal it. The breathing attacks were difficult. Continuously disappearing on Brennan in the middle of cases did prompt some questions. He thought he was able to thwart her. However sometimes when he caught her looking at him he wasn't so sure.

Booth slid down onto the ground, bracing his back against the siding of the house. His body tensed as he coughed, battling himself to pull air into his lungs. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the baby blue cloudless sky. The pain kicked in to high mode. He couldn't pass out. Not this time. He had to fight this.

***

Brennan stared cluelessly at Mr. Beddington for a full five minutes without saying a word. Where had Booth gone? He knew she was no good at questioning anyone. Though extremely intelligent, Brennan lacked the social graces to be able to connect with people. Her non verbal cues, well, as Booth would say, sucked. She was better when he was with her and he knew that. As more time passed she felt herself getting angry. Just where had he gone? What was he doing? "Um, sorry. I'll be right back," she apologized to the old man.

Tracing Booth's footsteps, she walked outside into the bright daylight. Up and down the street she looked. No sign of Booth. His Suburban was still sitting in the driveway, so he hadn't mysteriously left her there. Shaking her head, she kept looking.

She didn't know what made her turn around. But she was glad she did. Booth sat up in the grass, hiding off to the side of the house. With his back up against the wall and his head aimed upwards at the sky, he almost resembled a strange praying pose. "Booth?" She crossed the lawn, watching where she stepped as her heels sank into the soft ground. "What are you doing?" Demanding, she wanted to know irritably. "You know I can't-" her words got stuck in her throat as she drew closer to him. Booth couldn't breathe. He coughed and gasped, his body trembling from his muscles being so taut.

Dropping to her knees besides him, she tilted his head to her and tried to look into his eyes. They moved rapidly back and forth. It seemed like he wanted to look at everything but her. At last they stopped when she put her hand on his cheek. Booth glanced straight at her. Brennan could see the haziness building in his brown eyes. Fainting was gaining on him.

"Booth? What's going on?" Asking him was stupid, she realized. The man couldn't breathe. How was he supposed to talk?

His attempts at air were growing labored. Slowly his eyelids were beginning to droop. Reaching for her hand, he held it before at last dropping off. Booth stopped gasping. The muscles on his body released. He slumped.

Even though Brennan was prepared for it, she was still frightened. She didn't let go of his hand as she dialed for help. All she could think of were how cold his fingers were.


	2. Chapter 2

Booth was alert once again by the time the paramedics arrived. "I'm sorry you had to come out here," he apologized as he signed a refusal of treatment waiver. "I think I just didn't eat enough or something. Dizzy and all."

Brennan grew irritated as she watched him use his charm. "You couldn't breathe."

"Asthma attack," he threw carelessly her way.

"You don't have asthma."

Finishing his signature, he handed the clipboard back to the paramedics. After they had walked away he spoke. "I get strange asthma attacks sometimes, Bones. It's no big deal."

She stood. "You remind me of that then the next time you're laying on the ground unable to breathe."

Sadly, he watched her walk away. Keeping up this charade was becoming difficult. "I'm sorry," he whispered in the direction she had retreated in.

***

The next week passed without further incident. Brennan was careful to keep an eye on him. She was frustrated not to find much. He was pale all the time, she could see. His walk was altered, as if he was always exhausted. And thirsty. Booth seemed to always be drinking water. Otherwise, he seemed the same as he had always been. Though Brennan didn't buy his asthma story, she did find herself relaxing a little.

Neither one of them were prepared when the next episode hit. Booth was driving them through the city to a possible suspect's house. Brennan droned on next to him, speaking as she flipped through a file folder. He tried to concentrate on her words, but it was nearly impossible. His doctor had started him on a new trial medicine. The effects left him with such severe nausea he couldn't think straight.

He had just gotten them onto the highway when it hit. All the air escaped from his lungs. Pain crushed his chest and arms. He moaned softly. Soon after the coughing started.

Brennan looked up from her paperwork. "Booth?" She asked fearfully. The vehicle picked up speed and swerved back and forth as Booth rapidly lost control. Seeing his plight, she knew if she didn't do something he would accidentally kill them both. First she needed to stop the car.

Unbuckling her seat belt, she pushed herself up in her seat. Very gently she eased her leg over the console dividing them. With a good swift kick she knocked his foot off the acceleration pedal. As the Suburban began slowing down she took a grip of the steering wheel and moved them into the breakdown lane.

Once they had come to a complete stop she was able to focus on her partner. "Booth?" She touched his shoulder. The coughing fit had stopped. His body still jerked though as he tried to breathe. This wasn't over. It was far from it.

Brennan opened her car door and hopped out. She ran around to his side and opened his door. Booth had his head back against the head rest; his eyes shut tightly and his mouth open. On the steering wheel his hands had such a tight grip that his knuckles were pure white. Even though he was trying, he wasn't breathing much.

Again Brennan found herself calling for medical attention. As she did her fingers wandered onto his neck to search for his pulse. If she hadn't of known better she would have guessed he'd run ten miles by the rapid feel of his heart beat.

Booth was losing his fight. His eyes were closing. His lips had taken on a slight bluish color. Brennan didn't know what to do. Was he dying in front of her? Impulsively she pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth, as a sort of half form of CPR. To her disappointment it didn't work.

"Come on, Booth," she pried one of his hands away from the steering wheel and intertwined their fingers. "Stay with me."

His eyes were almost closed. This time he seemed oblivious to her presence. She pulled him to her, finding herself once again holding onto him as he went unconscious.

***

Booth didn't wake up in the ambulance. He didn't wake in the hospital while tests were being administered. He didn't even wake when Brennan came to sit with him after the doctors were finished. Brennan could hardly keep her worry in check. What was happening to her best friend?

A doctor summoned her out into the hall. Rising to her feet, she squeezed his hand before leaving the room. The doctor looked at her kindly. "Are you family?"

"I'm his partner." She realized at once by the change in the doctor's face that he thought she meant romantic partner.

"Ah. I'm Doctor Bovier. You must be familiar then with Agent Booth's case."

Case? "Yes." She lied, hoping to gain some insight. "I'm also a doctor."

Doctor Bovier's eyes lit up. "Oh. Well then, come with me."

Through hall ways she followed him under the fluorescent lights and over the squeaky linoleum floor. He led her into a darkened room where a series of x-rays were clipped onto a lighted board. "This attack was a brutal one," he started.

Brennan didn't like where any of this was heading. She took a look at the radiographs. There was no mistaking the fluid build up in Booth's lungs.

"We've tried a new treatment but I'm sad to say we're not too hopeful since his body hasn't responded to anything. Right now we have him on a morphine IV push to dull the pain. Unfortunately there's little we can do except release him once he's woken."

Brennan was feeling panicked. Treatments? Not responding? Morphine for the pain? What was happening with Booth? She couldn't take her eyes off the board. "I understand," she spoke calmly, betraying how she really felt inside. "Would you mind leaving me his file? As one doctor to another, I'd like to go over some notes." She saw the doctor's eyes grow mistrustful. "To see if I've missed anything," she added, figuring he was afraid for some reason she was going to sue the hospital. If anything she felt like suing Booth for fraud.

The doctor was reluctant, but gave her the file. "Take care of him," he said in parting. "He doesn't have too much longer."

Unable to control herself Brennan gasped. Fleeing the room, she walked around until she found a quiet place to read. Ironically, it was the hospital chapel.

Down onto a pew she sat. In front of her she placed his file. With a deep breath she opened it and began reading. The first thing she noticed was Booth's weight on his statistical information. One eighty two. That wasn't right. Booth was at least two hundred pounds of muscle, if not slightly over. He didn't look any thinner. Confused, she read on.

It took her an hour or so before she finished. Her mind was racing so fast she had a difficult time absorbing the information. Booth was dying of an unexplained and incurable disease. He'd been trying to fight it with treatments. None of it had done any good. Over time it had progressed.

Things began to make sense. Now she noticed subtle things. His inability to keep up with easy science he had been able to before. His daily sudden disappearances where he was gone for at least a half an hour. She recalled when they went out to eat he ordered but barely ate. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time he'd had a slice of pie, his favorite. If they went to the bar after solving a case he had switched from drinking beer to drinking excessive amounts of water. At the time Brennan had assumed he'd given up drinking. Now she noted it as another sign.

All this time the evidence had been right in front of her. She'd been so caught up in her work that she'd never noticed. Anger, sadness, and panic all swirled around. Why hadn't he told her? Why had she had to read about it sitting in a chapel all by herself?

Though she didn't believe in God, she found herself talking out loud. "How could You do this to him?" Slamming the file shut, she added, "how could You do this to me?"

Allowing herself to be angry, she left the chapel. Anger she was comfortable with. Anger tamed the fear she felt. Up on the floor his room was on, she returned his file to the nurses' desk. Then she went back into his room.

His clothes were neatly folded in a bag sitting on a chair next to his bed. Spontaneously she began searching through. There were extra shirts he had been wearing under his dress shirt and blazer to disguise his weight loss. "Booth," she sighed. While he still slept she glanced over at him. For the first time she truly saw how thin his face had become. The muscle mass in his biceps looked smaller. Veins rose prominently from his skin on his hands and forearms.

Guilt now danced in with the anger, sadness, and panic. She should have noticed sooner. Berating herself, she wondered how she could spend so much time with someone and not pick up on the signs. Because she was rational. It was easy to explain his strange behavior away when she didn't want to see the truth.

Carefully she folded his clothes back up. On the opposite side of him she resumed sitting. She touched his hand again. A few tears rose to her eyes. Brennan swallowed them back down. No tears. Anger. She would be furious with him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Seely Booth, you are a selfish jerk."

Booth just barely had his eyes open. The sharp words wounded and confused him. Where was he? What was going on? He inhaled and felt the uncomfortable feeling of something stuck in his throat. A breathing tube. Damn, he'd passed out again. All around him he looked. Seeing Brennan standing over him, he would have swallowed nervously if he could have. He didn't recall ever seeing so much anger written on her features. Thanks to the tube he wasn't able to say anything in his own defense.

She seized on it. "How could you? How could you not tell me?! You're sick. You have no business driving. You could have killed us! You don't even have any business working!" Brennan inhaled. Already she began to feel calmer. "How could you deal with this alone for months? Don't you think I would have wanted to have been there? You should have told me."

Booth could do nothing but convey his sadness with his eyes.

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. "I should have noticed," she ended with in a sad, soft voice.

A nurse arrived then to check on Booth. After doing a brief statistical check she called for a doctor. Brennan waited while Booth's oxygen tube was removed. She felt sick hearing him gag as it was taken out. Immediately she poured him a glass of water and handed it to him. He emptied the glass within seconds.

Soon as they were alone Brennan started again. "Why?" She wondered simply.

"I couldn't tell you, Bones." His voice was gravely from his throat being scraped by the tube.

"Why?"

"I knew what it would do to you."

"I deserve to know the truth."

He looked away. "It started six months ago."

"Six months! Booth!"

"It started," he repeated. "With coughing fits when I woke up in the morning. I coughed until I fainted. I went to the doctor, who referred me to another doctor, who referred me to another."

"You took a week off." She remembered suddenly. "You told me you were taking care of Parker while Rebecca was away."

Booth looked at her uncomfortably. "I took that week off after I was told I was dying from a disease and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried everything that was recommended for me. No one knows what's wrong so no one knows what to do."

"Does anyone know about it?"

"No. I couldn't tell anyone. They'd make me quit working. That's all I have left, Bones."

"You're giving up." She accused him. He confirmed her accusation when he directed his gaze elsewhere. "You can't give up, Booth. I'm not letting you."

"There's nothing that can be done."

"There's always something. And I'm going to find it. You're not going down without a fight."

"I'm so tired," he whispered.

Looking at him, she didn't doubt it. "Who's taking care of you?"

"Taking care of me? I told you, nobody knows."

Brennan threw back her shoulders. "Then I'm moving in."

"What?"

"I'm staying with you. I'm not taking no for an answer."

Booth looked shocked. But then his face relaxed and he laid back against his pillows. No longer did he have the strength to argue. That secretly pleased and disappointed Brennan. She was pleased she got her way. But the price she was paying for it wasn't worth it.

"Just promise me you won't tell anyone," he requested before drifting off.

"Booth,"

"_Please_, Bones."

Unwillingly she agreed. Watching him fall back asleep she figured it would only be a matter of time before people started to figure it out for themselves.

***

Booth was released a short time later. Brennan dropped him off at his apartment, then headed to her own to pick up some of her own things. She was dying to call and request time off for them both. Without the added distraction of cases she would be able to truly focus on Booth. Doing so though would give them both away. Somehow she was going to have to balance both.

By the time she got back Booth was already in pajama pants and a t shirt. "You're serious?" He asked with raised eyebrows when he opened his front door to her.

"Yes." She pushed her way in. Dropping her bag, she took off her coat and hung it up. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"You have to eat." Next to where he had been sitting on the couch she noticed a large bottle of water he had been drinking from. "You can't live off of water alone."

"I'm always thirsty."

"I know. But you need food. I'm making something."

He had to crack a smile as she waltzed into his kitchen. There was just no stopping her once her mind was made up. "Do you even know how to cook?"

"I'm an excellent cook!" She shot back. "What do you feel like?"

"Bones, I can't eat."

"You have to keep your strength up."

"Food makes me sick."

Pursing her lips, she said, "I'll just make a sandwich. Can you at least eat a few bites?"

Booth agreed. She went back into the kitchen as he went back to the couch. A few minutes later she joined him with a ham sandwich. Once again his eyes were closed. His body was stretched out the length of the couch. On the edge she sat down next to him, placing the plate onto his stomach. Tiredly he blinked at her. Noticing the sandwich, he picked it up.

"Just a few bites," Brennan encouraged.

He ate half before pushing it away. She figured he had only done it for her. That was just Booth's way. If Brennan asked him for one hundred percent, he gave her one hundred and fifty.

On the couch he scooted his body to give her more room. Most of the evening was passed in silence between them. Not uncomfortable, just quiet. Brennan spent much of the time on the phone conning her way into getting his medical records. Booth rested on the couch, a game playing on the television. Every time she checked on him he was asleep. When the game ended she switched the channel to cartoons for him. At least, she thought, he would enjoy the noise.

Late in the evening she felt herself getting tired. It had been a long day for the both of them. "Booth," she shook him gently on the couch. "Get up. You should head to bed." It seemed pointless. He'd been sleeping all day. But she supposed he'd sleep all night as well.

"No, I'll stay here. You take the bed. You're the guest."

"I'm not a guest. You're sick."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

"Well, I'm not letting you."

They faced one another.

"We could, um, share my bed. It's big enough."

Was Brennan imaging it or was there a slight blush on his cheeks? "I guess. I mean, we have before."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Sure." She was more than fine with that, actually. Not that she'd let him know.

Together they moved from the living room into his bedroom. At the foot of the bed they both stopped. Each of them felt shy. "This isn't rational," Brennan finally stated.

"Yeah. We're both adults." Booth agreed. "We can be adult about this."

On opposite sides of the bed they both got in. Booth turned onto his side, his back to her. She stared at him before shutting off the light. Saying goodnight, they both instantly fell into a deep sleep.

***

_Brennan was back in Booth's hospital room. Only this time she was holding him in her arms as he laid in bed. The breathing tube was back in his mouth and throat. He was unconscious, his body cold and rigid. "Booth," she whispered to him. Not a sound or motion did he make._

_Over and over again she repeated his name. He was near death. She felt as if she continued speaking to him it would somehow keep him in this world. Of course, that made no sense. But sense was something she wasn't concerned with. Brennan had to save him._

_Suddenly he started gasping, faster and faster until everything stopped entirely. The sound of his heart monitor flat lining shrilled into the air._

"_No! Booth!" She shook him. "You can't leave! You can't!" She cried. "I love you! You can't leave me here!"_

_She could hear his voice in her head. _Don't let me go till I'm gone.

"_Bones?" Someone called her name. "Bones!"_

***

"Bones!"

Brennan woke with a start. In the pale moonlight shining in from the window she could see Booth balanced, one arm on each side of her as he looked down over her. "You okay? I think you were having a nightmare or something."

Emotional, she reached for him and pulled his body down onto hers. Her arms clung tightly to his shoulders.

"Hey," he under toned tenderly. "It's okay."

She cried, though she didn't verbalize her sorrow. Booth could still feel it, but didn't comment. If she needed to keep up her resolve he wouldn't call her on it. "Bones, it's all right."

_But it's not, _she wanted to argue back. Brennan buried her head in his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

"Look," he laid down right next to her. "I'm right here. I'll sleep right here."

"You can't give up," she told him in a strained voice. "You can't, Booth."

"I'm not."

It was only a slight reassurance but she took it. Brennan fell asleep, tangled in his arms. Booth watched her. He'd heard her beg out loud for him to stay. He'd heard her admit she loved him. He had meant it when he said he wouldn't give up. He wouldn't give up for Parker, and he wouldn't give up for her.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Do not own "All You Wanted" by Michelle Branch.

Days passed into weeks. Before Brennan's eyes she watched her partner fade. Every night he slept right next to her, silently assuring her he was there. He continued treatments, seeing different doctors and trying different remedies. Most of them left him unable to work for at least a day. Brennan never knew what she would be coming home to. Some days he would be waiting for her, seeming like his usual self. Others, he would be so far gone she would lay with him just to be sure he was all right; just to listen to his heart beat. Just to listen to him breathe.

Providing excuses for his absences to her coworkers was becoming a challenge. It was obvious they were beginning to catch on that something was amiss. More than once Brennan caught Cam scanning Booth with a critical eye. No matter how many clothes he piled on his weight loss had become apparent. The tired circles under his eyes were hard to miss. His face had become pale and withdrawn. Even his personality had seemed to turn into someone else at the lab. The once cocky man was now quiet, content to just observe everything going on around him.

Brennan wasn't much different in the appearance department. Exhaustion was plaguing her. Trying to keep up with Booth and working cases left her feeling like she was burning the candle at both ends.

"This isn't fair to you," Booth told her one night as they sat together on the couch.

"What isn't?"

"Dealing with me. You should move back home. You should go on with your life and I'll take care of this mess."

She challenged him by looking straight into his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, Booth. You need me."

"You need your life back."

"You are my life," she found herself saying on a whim. He held her gaze, a small smile playing upon his lips. "Thanks, Bones."

She held his hand and leaned against him.

In the morning he was out cold again from a coughing fit.

Not being able to share her feelings with someone was also beginning to take it's toll. She wished she could lean on anyone, especially Angela. Her friend had proven herself many times over as a comfort. Brennan found herself resenting Booth for making her keep her promise. Immediately after she felt ashamed. He was going through enough. His own personal business was his.

At last, everything came to a head. Booth and Brennan had been out in the field questioning a suspect. When he'd taken off Booth had given chase. Only a short distance he'd been able to run before he couldn't breathe and had to stop. Needless to say, their suspect escaped. Brennan found him sitting on the ground. Trying to help him, she withdrew when he shut his eyes and turned his head away. He was angry with himself.

They returned to the lab defeated. Brennan stepped up onto the platform, having been greeted by Cam with new evidence. Booth sat down numbly and watched.

She and Cam were bent over a body, wrapped up deeply in conversation. In the background Brennan heard Booth start coughing. She heard a strange noise, as though a body was hitting the ground. But nothing truly connected until she heard Hodgins exclaim, "whoa! Dude!"

Her head snapped up. Booth was laying on the floor, unconscious. His secret was out.

Security was already beginning to advance on him. Brennan met them half way. "Take him to my office and lay him on the couch!" She instructed.

The entire lab had come to a stand still. Hodgins eyes were wide saucers. Cam looked alarmed. Angela seemed ready to cry, her hands covering her mouth. Brennan offered them no explanation. She followed the two security guards carrying Booth into her office. Once they left she shut the door.

"What is going on?" Cam asked, breathlessly.

"I knew he was sick. But I didn't know he was _that_ sick," Hodgins shook his head.

"I'm getting to the bottom of it." Angela was determined. One way or another she would get the truth.

***

Brennan had barricaded herself inside her office. On the floor next to the couch she knelt next to Booth, clinging to his hand. Tears built in her eyes as she noticed red liquid by his mouth. He had started coughing up blood. Gently she ran her fingers through his hair. His forehead was already burning with fever.

A full ten minutes passed before he came to. Groggily, he looked at Brennan. "Again?" His voice cracked.

"You didn't even make it out of the lab."

"Shit," he hissed, closing his eyes.

"Booth, you can't work anymore."

"I know. I'll go home and rest."

"No. I mean, ever."

He blinked his eyes open again.

"You're too sick. It's too hard now on your body."

"Can't give up." He wheezed.

"You need to just rest. That's the best way to not give up right now."

"I need to work," he kept on insisting.

Brennan looked down. "Look, Booth, I can't stop you. But pushing yourself is going to kill you. You need to take it easy."

"Fine. Just for today." He said airily, his eyes already closing again. Brennan swallowed back worry. "Lets just get you home."

***

They were hardly in the door before Booth was heading straight for the couch. He didn't even bother taking off his shoes or jacket. Down he sank, shutting his eyes. Brennan could see sweat beads gathering on his forehead from the fever. From his bathroom she brought him aspirin and a glass of water. Both he sucked down, asking for more water when he was finished. By the time she brought him another glass he had already fallen asleep.

She let herself into his bedroom. His doctor needed to know the situation.

"He may need to come in tomorrow, Dr. Brennan. I, of course can't tell for sure without seeing him, but if he has a fever it sounds like he may be fighting off an infection. I don't think I need to tell you how serious that is in his condition."

Brennan knew. She had just hung up from speaking with him when her cell phone rang. The caller ID read that it was Angela. Figuring she better face the music, she answered.

"How's Booth?"

"Asleep." Brennan didn't let her voice give anything away.

"Um, look sweetie, can we meet? Would you meet me at the diner in a half an hour?"

It was the last thing Brennan wanted to do. She knew what Angela wanted to meet about. She worried about leaving Booth's side. "I don't know, Ange."

"Please. I need to talk to someone."

Exhaling deeply, she agreed. Back in the living room she left Booth a note with his cell phone next to the couch. Before leaving she removed his coat and shoes. Tenderly she ran her fingertips over the bare skin on his arm. "I'll be back," she whispered in his ear. If he heard her, he gave no indication. Saddened, she left the apartment.

***

_I didn't know that it was so cold_

_And you needed someone to show you the way_

_So I took your hand and we figured out that_

_When the tide comes I'll take you away_

Angela hadn't arrived yet when Brennan walked in. On her own she selected a seat and sat down. She picked up a menu and looked it over. By now she knew every meal by heart. Every nook of the restaurant screamed of Booth. If she'd had any appetite, which she didn't, it would have been swallowed up in the memories that made her heart ache.

_I'm sinking slowly so hurry hold me_

_Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on_

_And can you tell me so I can finally see_

_Where you go when you're gone?_

Brennan hadn't really been paying attention to the music playing over head. But the lyrics slammed into her like a boulder. By the time Angela eased into a seat across from her Brennan was struggling to hold onto control.

Angela knew just by watching her something was wrong. "Sweetie? What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I am talking about. Booth. I mean, he's sick. I get that. But what's going on? He looks exhausted. He's not himself. Does he even eat anymore?"

She meant it as a rhetorical question, but Brennan couldn't keep to herself any longer. With Booth getting sicker she needed to talk to someone. "No." Her answer surprised Angela. "He gets sick when he eats."

"Brennan."

"He's dying, Ange. He has an indefinable disease that's taking him away from me more and more every day."

Angela's eyes teared up. "What?"

"He's been trying to battle this on his own for months. I only just found out. He tries everything the doctor tells him. Nothing helps. He just keeps getting sicker." Choking back emotion, she continued. "And to make matters worse, he's completely selfless."

"What do you mean?"

"He still tries to fight. He doesn't complain. He's sweet and wonderful and sometimes, sometimes I wish he'd just get angry. I wish he'd lose his temper at the injustice of this. It's not fair. Why him?" She shook her head. "Why us?"

Angela didn't have any answers for her, except, "you need to get away."

"What? From him?"

"God no. I mean, the two of you need to go away for a while. Go on a vacation."

"That's not going to solve anything."

"Brennan, have you looked in the mirror lately? You're both exhausted and stressed out. I can't promise a vacation is going to fix either one of those. But getting away from real life for a while, from work and bones and murders, will be good for the both of you." She took a piece of paper out from her purse. Down on it she scribbled an address and phone number. Handing it to Brennan, she said, "here. This is a nice bed and breakfast Hodgins and I stayed at once up in Maine. Take him there for the weekend. Just go and relax."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Do it for him."

_If you want to I can save you_

_I can take you away from here_

_So lonely inside, so busy out there_

_And you wanted was somebody who cares_


	5. Chapter 5

By the time the weekend came around Brennan could see Booth truly suffering for the first time. The doctor had prescribed a medicine that had broken the fever. But nothing could help his spirit. One look in his eyes told her how depressed he felt. Outwardly though he didn't place his emotions on her. What he did was actually far worse. Booth simply stopped talking. She couldn't get more than a few words out of him. Inside his own mind he locked himself away.

Having his son around didn't seem to help. Rebecca had caught wind of the situation. She was willing to let Booth see Parker any time, but it was hard for him to keep up. Parker knew something was going on, but surprisingly didn't ask too many questions. For his sake Booth was able to fake cheeriness whenever he visited. The minute Parker left though Booth was back to being lost in his own world.

Seeing him fighting himself pushed Brennan into making a reservation at the bed and breakfast.

They left on Friday. It was hard for Brennan to gauge Booth's feelings about the impromptu getaway. It was hard to judge his feelings about anything anymore.

He slept during the entire ride. Only once did he raise his head. His eyes were barely open.

"Booth?"

His words were soft and slurred. "Don't let me die in the hospital."

"What?" She cried.

"I wanna be at home." Down onto his shoulder his head flopped. Back he fell into a deep sleep.

Brennan tried to chalk it up to sleep talking. She tried to blame his delirious state. But she couldn't help but to wonder, was that how he really felt? Had he completely given up hope?

The bed and breakfast was a three story cottage. Trees surrounded the area. In a clearing a beautiful pond shimmered in the sun. Brennan already could feel herself unwinding as she parked the car. She let Booth sleep while she checked them in. By the time she walked back to the car he was awake and unloading luggage.

Their room was on the second floor. Inside they both went and got settled. Booth walked over to the window that looked down over the pond. The sun was beginning to set in the sky, setting it on fire with color. She swear she saw him smile a little.

"I'm going to wash up. I'll be right out." Stepping into the bathroom, she called out to him before she shut the door.

He was gone from the room when she came out. Panicking slightly, she began looking for him. Panic wasn't logical. It wasn't rational. But Booth was neither of these things even when he was well. His disappearing act worried her considering the state of mind he was in.

The man at the registration desk informed her he had gone outside. Rushing out, she scanned the perimeter until she spotted his silhouette. Booth was laying down in the grass on a hill over looking the pond. Brennan let her heart slow to its regular beat before allowing herself to join him.

Booth looked up as she took a seat next to him. Back and forth his eyes switched from her to the sunset. The colors from the sky shone on his face, alighting it in gold. He still didn't speak. But Brennan could feel the calmness coming from him.

Words Angela had spoken to Brennan once echoed in her mind. _"Have you ever noticed that a sunset looks more beautiful when you share it with somebody that you care about?"_

Neither one of them knew who initiated it. No one knew how it started. But the two found themselves pulling towards one another. In the fading light they kissed, soft and sweet.

Brennan hadn't known what Angela had meant when she'd asked her that question. Now she understood whole heartedly.

***

After they ate dinner, well, Brennan ate, they both found solace back in their room. The room was small; cozy. Once again they would have to share a bed. But that didn't bother them anymore. Neither one of them discussed the kiss. No words were needed. They knew.

While Booth headed towards the bathroom to change his clothes, Brennan sat down on the edge of the bed. The bunk board broke under her slight weight. She shrieked as the corner of the bed gave way under her. Looking up wide eyed, she saw Booth laughing.

"You broke the bed, Bones!"

"I did not!"

He was still laughing as he shut the door. Brennan knelt down to the floor, trying to see if there was some way to fix the damage. Her heart was soaring. She'd been able to make Booth laugh again, even if it had been by accident.

A short time later he emerged in his usual sleep wear. "Hey, Bones?" He had a devilish look on his face. "Truth or dare?"

"Booth, I'm not playing this."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a child."

"C'mon," he sat down next to her.

Rolling her eyes, she smiled a little. "Fine. Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Booth!" She chuckled. "I don't know about most embarrassing." She strained to think. "When I was in school I accidentally said orgasm instead of organism once while giving a report."

Booth grinned. "That's pretty embarrassing."

"Especially when you're in sixth grade. I got called a lot of names."

"I'm sure."

She looked at him. "So? Your turn."

"Truth."

Brennan looked deep into his eyes. If she hadn't learned anything else from this journey with him, she'd learned tomorrow wasn't promised. It was a reminder that human life was fragile. Situations could change on a whim. She had to ask him. She needed to know. "How do you feel about me?"

He didn't flinch. "I love you," whispering, his eyes grew dark with emotion.

Brennan leaned in closer. "Truth or dare?" She under toned.

"It's my turn."

She repeated herself.

Booth seemed to catch wind of what she was doing. "Dare."

"Kiss me again."

He rose to the challenge.

***

They didn't leave the bed the rest of the night, though they didn't take things too far. At last they broke apart when Booth had a coughing attack. For once he didn't pass out. But it was a sorrowful reminder of why they were there in the first place. Brennan could see the pain written on his face.

"Truth," she stated quietly when he was finished.

Exhausted and trying to catch his breath, he looked puzzled. "What? I didn't ask."

"No. I want to know the truth from you. How do you feel?" Whenever she had asked him in the past he had never been open with her. She knew him well enough to know when was lying. Before he'd sunk into his depression Booth had played himself up, trying to make her believe he felt better than she knew he really did.

He hesitated.

"Honest, Booth."

"Awful."

She was waiting for him to say more. He didn't. "Are you scared?"

"I'm scared of not having enough time. There's so much I wanted to do that I never got a chance to."

Booth was staring up at the ceiling. Brennan gazed at him. "You will, Booth. You will."

When he didn't say anything, when he didn't so much as look at her, Brennan felt her heart break. "Booth?"

"I heard you."

"You don't believe me."

"I'm just trying to be realistic. You taught me that."

Furiously she gripped his hand. "No."

"I'm not getting better."

"The doctors are working on it. They'll find something."

"Are _you _scared?" He shot her own question back at her.

"Yes, but not of losing you. I'm scared because you've lost hope."

"Bones, look at me. I don't have too much time left. You, the most rational of people, should realize that."

"I _can_ read your body like a book," she acknowledged. "But, as much as I hate psychology, I've seen how far people can come back from near death on spirit alone. I know you can fight."

"I've been fighting. I'm so tired."

"I know you are. Let me take some of it. You've been shutting me out. You've been protecting me for too long."

"No. I won't let you."

"I'm not letting you go. Booth, you changed my world. Let me change yours. Let me help you through this. You don't have to do it alone."

Finally he looked at her. "It's too much, Bones. You've already done more than enough."

"I'll do whatever it takes."

Cuddling up to her, he shut his eyes. "It's just depression. It'll pass."

She didn't believe him. Not with the behavior she'd witnessed from him lately. As he fell asleep in her arms she promised herself she wasn't letting him go down without a fight.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning she woke up alone. Brennan wasn't sure if she was fearful or irritated. Why did Booth keep vanishing without letting her know where he was going? Did he just want some time for himself? A thought suddenly came to her. Was he getting sicker, and trying to prevent her from knowing the truth?

She showered and dressed quickly, all the while attempting to mentally calm herself. Brennan couldn't go running after Booth every time he wasn't by her side. Even if she was afraid of the implications. He was a grown man. Albeit, a sick one, but grown none the less.

It didn't take her long to find him. He was sitting in the living room of the cottage, gulping down water and speaking with an older man. Booth smiled at Brennan when she walked into the room. Without trying too hard she could see something hidden behind his smile.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she listened as the two discussed an array of different topics. From listening she determined the old man was the owner of the cottage. Booth's voice was light; cheery. She couldn't tell if he was genuine or just being polite.

They were discussing old time baseball when Booth began coughing. Brennan was quick to butt in and excuse him. Pushing Booth ahead of her, she was leading him away when the old man stopped her. Booth kept walking, trudging along alone upstairs.

"Your husband's sick."

"He's not my husband. And yes. He is." _And I need to be with him and not talking to you._

The man ambled over to his desk. He returned with a business card. Brennan squinted at it.

"Doctor Maria Francisco. She might be able to help him."

"Who is she?" Brennan was intrigued.

"A medical doctor. She specializes in radical treatments. Obviously your husband isn't responding to traditional medicine."

Brennan looked up at him from the card suspiciously. How did he know so much? "Radical treatments-"

"Helped with my wife."

"Oh. Where is she now?"

"She died a while ago."

Brennan shook her head. Though she didn't want to, she thanked the old man and hurried away. Obviously the doctor hadn't been able to help his wife if she had died anyway. For whatever reason she tucked it into her pocket.

Booth had made it into their room. The door was ajar when she arrived. He was sitting upright on the floor next to the bed. The way his hand was covering his mouth told her he was coughing up blood again. Onto the floor she sank down next to him. Ever so gently she rubbed his chest. Her fingertips ran over a multitude of small lumps. Lumps that hadn't been there before. Brennan watched his face as she massaged him. The lumps didn't seem to be causing him any pain.

His heart was racing beneath her touch. She saw his eyes fluttering and knew he was close to passing out. "Booth," she whispered, locking her gaze onto his. "Look at me."

He did. Their eyes never strayed as he fought to hold onto consciousness. At last the moment passed. Relaxing, his tensed muscles let go. Brennan never stopped touching him. Conflicting emotions made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. The new development of lumps was dangerous. But he'd fought himself to stay conscious for her. And he'd won. The victory was small, but in it she saw a glimmer of hope. She found the fighter in him once again.

Brennan helped him up and cleaned him. Together they flopped back into bed. Like a magnet Booth was drawn to her. Right besides her he laid with his eyes closed. She rubbed his arm now, just reminding him she was there. "We're going out tonight," she decided suddenly.

His eyes popped open. "What?"

"We're going out and having fun."

"Bones, I-"

"You're going." She told him firmly.

***

There wasn't much to do in the tiny town they were staying in. A local bar was the only offering of night life. Brennan took it over nothing. Inside loud country music blasted from over head speakers. Couples danced on a wooden floor. Though it was pretty crowded for a Saturday night, it still wasn't as busy as one might expect.

Brennan led Booth inside, strolling them up to the counter. Booth pulled out a stool and took a seat. They both ordered, beer for Brennan and water for Booth, and observed all that was going on around them. Out of the corner of her eye Brennan noticed Booth almost appeared nervous.

Men continuously asked her to dance. After the third offer Booth waved her off. "Go."

"I'm not leaving you!" She hollered back over the music.

"I'm fine! Go have fun!"

Brennan didn't like it, but she took the man's offer. All while dancing she never stopped looking at Booth. More men asked for a dance, and she unhappily obliged. When a slow song came on over the speakers she said goodbye and went back to Booth. Mutely she offered him her hand.

"What?"

"Dance with me."

Carefully Booth got up from the stool and moved out with her onto the floor. Sick or not, Booth still skillfully knew how to dance. He still knew how to move his body. Brennan put her arms around his shoulders and closed her eyes. Here in this moment she could pretend he wasn't sick. There was no such thing as illness. The strong man in her arms was not dying. Unconsciously she buried her head in his neck. Brennan could feel his body respond to her. His arms tightened around her waist.

At the end of the song she lifted her head to look at him. Booth kissed her without warning, passionate and loving at the same time. Brennan tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer as she kissed him back.

Their kiss lasted from the bar's dance floor all the way back to their cottage room. Back onto the bed they ended up together. Their hands moved feverishly over one another, removing clothes. And when the moment arrived Booth hesitated for only a moment. It was hard for him to know if he was strong enough. But looking at the beautiful woman before him, and knowing that he'd wanted it, wanted _her_, for so long, drove him to proceed.

Once they were finished they laid together in a mess of blankets.

"Now that was fun," Brennan whispered in his ear.

"Mmm." He said in agreement, smiling as he happily fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The weekend did seem to truly rejuvenate them both. Brennan's Booth was back. The man he used to be before he got sick came shining through. The depression had dissipated. Any way he addressed the future now included the line "after I get better." Determination had found its way back.

"How was the weekend?" Angela asked Brennan her second day back at work.

"Good. I think it was good for us both."

"It's really peaceful, right? Is there much to do? Hodgins and I hardly left our room."

"I don't know. Booth and I didn't really leave, either."

Angela stopped working. She stared, shocked at Brennan's insinuation. "Did you two…"

Brennan rose her head from her paperwork and looked at her.

"Oh, my God. You did." She laughed. "What was it like? I bet it was amazing."

"It was," Brennan grinned ear to ear. "He was wonderful. Ange, it's like he wasn't even sick." In that moment Brennan _had_ forgotten he was sick. She was lost in his body, his eyes.

"Wow. See? Sometimes a good romp in the sack is all you need."

They'd had a few more "romps" since getting home. All in all things seemed to be improving. Brennan felt assured that Booth truly could and would fight the virus off.

Which was why she found it difficult to deal with the impending crash. For a week things were perfect. Booth was receiving treatments that didn't leave him in a near zombie like state. He had energy again.

The down fall started with confusion, then proceeded into headaches. Booth's disappearing acts had begun again. She'd lose track of him, not being able to find him again for hours. Since she was still working most of the time, following him was difficult. Finally one afternoon she walked in the apartment to find him in the bedroom. Obviously he hadn't made his escape yet. Upright on the bed he was sitting. His body was clenched tightly. His head was in his hands, covering his face.

"Booth?"

He seemed to have a delayed reaction. When he finally looked up at her, he could barely keep his eyes open. "Hurts," he communicated.

After it happened a few times she got a script for powerful pain killers. They made Booth sleep for hours.

Another instance occurred late one evening. Brennan had had trouble getting Booth to focus on anything. She'd gone into the bedroom to answer a phone call from Hodgins. By the time she came out Booth's face was completely blank. The ever lasting spark in his eyes was gone. He appeared to her as a stranger.

"Booth?" She knelt down in front of him. His eyes stared right through her. Brennan gripped his hand. Nothing seemed to help.

A few minutes passed before he blinked, snapping out of it. Tiredly, he smiled at her. "What's wrong, Bones?" He slurred.

Brennan's breathing hitched. In that heart breaking moment she knew. Treatments had done nothing. The virus had spread to his mind.

Work had become her only vice. There she could turn her attention to other things. Even there, however, she wasn't always safe. Since Booth wasn't working the FBI had stopped giving them cases. Her team had all gone back to what they had done before Booth had enlisted their help, identify the remains of those who died long ago.

Brennan was working on an ancient Amazonian woman when she suddenly had to excuse herself. Angela saw her run off into her office. She waited a few minutes before following her best friend. Inside she found her sitting on her couch. Shutting the door behind her, Angela took a seat. "Sweetie? What's wrong?"

"That woman died."

"Well, she was born in the seventeen hundreds. I'm not surprised."

"She had tumors. She died from cancer. She died because she was sick." Her voice cracked.

Angela understood immediately. "Booth."

"What if I'm wrong, Ange?" She had tears in her eyes. "What if I'm being selfish in asking him not to give up? To fight? He sleeps all the time now. I have a difficult time trying to wake him. Some days I can't. He doesn't even drink anymore. I have to remind him."

"Sweetie, it's not selfish."

"I'm keeping him here when he's in pain."

"If he wanted to he would have left a long time ago."

"He's losing the fight," she cried at last. Angela embraced her. "Don't give up on him. You can't."

The following Monday Brennan knew something was wrong. In the morning he'd had a low grade fever. She'd fought with him to stay home and take care of him.

"It's a little fever, Bones."

"Booth, nothing is insignificant anymore."

He had kissed her affectionately. "Go to work."

She had, questioning her decision all day. Her inquiry went further when he didn't answer his cell phone throughout the day. Multiple calls she made to him. All of them went unanswered. Early afternoon she couldn't take it anymore. She gave Cam little explanation as she left to head home. Traffic didn't move fast enough for her. Inside the apartment all was quiet. Brennan rushed from room to room, hoping he hadn't vanished again.

In the bathroom she noticed a tiny spot of blood on the floor. Feeling sick, she fished out her black light and shined it over the shiny tile. A puddle of blood had been wiped up. A puddle, she could see, that had started on the edge of the toilet seat. Booth wasn't just coughing up blood. Now he was vomiting it as well.

Panicked, she continued looking for him. In his bedroom she found him laying in bed. His shirt was off. He'd kicked his sheets away, wrapping them around his ankles. As Brennan got closer she could hear his fast, labored breathing. Heat rose from his body. His skin was covered in sweat.

Quickly she took his temperature. It was one hundred and two, and rising. Desperate, she gave him the same medicine he had last time he had a fever. Brennan waited an hour before taking his temperature again. It had risen to one hundred and three. Any higher and he risked brain damage. In her heart she knew. This was the end.

"Booth!" She tried to wake him.

He'd fallen into a coma.

Besides him she crawled into bed. "Booth, please," she whispered in his ear. "I know you're exhausted but you have to keep trying. But if you want me to let you go you have to let me know. Let me know when it's time. But I'll never stop fighting for you."

For a long while she laid in bed with him, watching him sink further away. Over in her head she replayed memories with him. They'd had so many laughs and tears. Brennan had loved him for so long and wasted her time not telling him. All at once the memory of the old man at the bed and breakfast came back. A card. He'd handed her a card.

Brennan didn't believe in radical treatments. They were foolish. Nonsense. But traditional medicine had done nothing for Booth. All the promises of wellness had died down as he'd gotten sicker. By now Brennan was just desperate enough to try anything. She couldn't lose him.

Frantically she searched for the business card. Luckily it was still tucked in the pocket of the pants she had been wearing. Calling, Dr. Francisco spoke and agreed to meet her as soon as possible. Within an hour the woman was knocking on Booth's door.

Brennan opened the door to a petite, Latin woman. She got down to business, requesting to see Booth. Leading her to him, Brennan sized the woman up. It was hard to believe she could do anything for her partner. But she was willing to try for him.

Dr. Francisco spent a good amount of time going over him. "He's been sick a while, yes?"

"Months."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "He's dying. He doesn't have long."

"Can you do anything?"

Dr. Francisco faced Brennan, unwavering. "There is something. But it's very dangerous. You could lose him."

_I'm losing him anyway. _"What is it?"

"We help him along. As he begins to die the virus will die off. It will have nothing left to feed off of. Then we pull him back to life. It's risky, yes. It takes a lot of faith asking him to fight back after nearly being at death's door."

"We have to wait for him to die?"

"No. We speed it up."

"How?"

"Poison. Then give him the antidote."

Brennan gasped out loud. "Will it hurt him?"

"Sweetie," she looked at her kindly. "Where he's at right now? He feels nothing."

Tears blurred Brennan's vision. "I don't know if I can make that decision for him."

"I'll leave you alone to think about it." Dr. Francisco left the room.

Sinking down onto the bed, Brennan found herself like so many times before reaching for Booth's hand. "What do I do?" She whispered to him. "What would you want me to do?"

_Do it, _said a little voice inside her head. _Have faith in me_. She frowned, squeezing his hand and second guessing herself. What other choices did they have? Still, she hated to put him through more than necessary. Practically above his head she could see a digital clock counting down his life.

When Dr. Francisco checked on them a short while later, Brennan nodded her decision at her.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a while for things to be set up. Dr. Francisco ordered some hospital equipment in order to better monitor Booth. To him she hooked up an IV, as well as a heart monitor. On hand she kept oxygen, just in case he should need it. Brennan never left Booth's side.

She climbed into bed behind him and pulled him into her arms, his head on her stomach. Dr. Francisco arrived with a syringe full of liquid. "You ready?"

Brennan looked down at Booth. She ran a cool hand over his sweaty forehead. Again, she silently nodded.

Dr. Francisco placed the syringe in the IV and injected the liquid. Brennan felt the world going by in slow motion. Only she and Booth remained. In her arms his body began to shudder. His breathing grew ragged and uneven.

"You said this wouldn't hurt him!" She accused.

"Muñeca, that's his body. It's not him."

He groaned, and she began to cry. "Booth, I'm so, so sorry." Looking up at Dr. Francisco, she snapped, "can you get me a wet towel?"

Ever calm, Dr. Francisco left and reappeared with a wetted towel from Booth's bathroom. Brennan balled it up, rubbing the cool liquid over his face and chest. "You're going to be all right," she whispered to him, sniffing. "You're going to be just fine."

"It takes time," Dr. Francisco said kindly. "I know its difficult."

"You have no idea." Brennan shook her head with her eyes closed. "You have no idea."

***

The hours passed on painfully slow. Outside it grew dark as night settled over the world. Brennan didn't move from Booth's bed. She didn't move from his side. Besides him she laid, not quite touching him. With his still severe fever she was afraid of somehow overheating him. But she did keep a hand on his chest, over his heart. Yes, Brennan knew he had machines monitoring his vitals. For her that wasn't good enough. Beneath her fingertips she needed to _feel _his heart beat. She needed to see him draw in breath after breath. She needed to help him to fight, and if a simple touch could do that then she was willing.

Dr. Francisco's theory was right, as much as Brennan tried to disregard it. The fever broke as Booth circled downward. The sweat that glistened his body evaporated. With every passing hour she could feel him getting weaker. "Just hold on," she whispered into his ear.

Dr. Francisco waited until his pulse was low, his breaths were weak and few, and his skin had taken on an awful, grayish tone. Wordlessly she injected the antidote into his IV. Both women waited, holding their breaths. Nothing happened. Booth remained the same.

"You waited too long!" Brennan blamed her, fighting back a new set of tears.

"It takes time. You must trust him now."

"I do." But she also knew how exhausted he was. Trying to fight off a virus was tough enough, but a virus and poison? Realistically she knew his chances for survival were low.

She couldn't think like that. Booth would feel it. And she did believe if anyone could pull through, it would be him. Seeing him lying in the state he was in before her, however, did shake her faith. _Have faith in him. _

He twitched suddenly, trembling again and struggling to take in a breath. Brennan held her own breath. Was this it? Was he trying to tell her something? She pressed her forehead against his. "Booth, come on."

Booth breathed as though he couldn't catch his breath. Brennan picked up his hand, clinging to his fingers and holding them close to her heart. "I know you can do this."

After a moment the episode passed. His breathing resumed at a normal pace, even picking up strength. Just like he had done so many months for her, Brennan laid down besides him and snuck an arm around his waist, silently letting him know she was there.

Hours passed by without change. Booth didn't get worse, but he didn't get better, either. It was as if he had gotten the message but part of it had been lost in translation. Brennan never took her eyes off of him. Around the early morning hours she had a difficult time staying awake. At last, though she tried to fight it, she drifted off.

***

_Brennan was skating around an empty ice rink by herself. The stands were empty. The boards had been completely painted white without a sign of advertisement. The lights had been turned down low. Round and round she skated aimlessly. What was she doing?_

_Her skate slipped out from underneath her, bending her ankle. Down onto the ice she fell. Wincing in pain, she looked around for help. No one was there. Figuring she was her own savior, she tried to push herself back onto her feet. Each attempt left her back down on the cold ice. In the end she just gave up, sitting and massaging her ankle._

_Somehow she knew she wasn't alone anymore. Looking up, she noticed Booth skating over to her wearing a Flyers jersey. Just next to her he stopped. "What are you doing, Bones? Get up."_

"_I can't."_

"_What? Of course you can."_

_Her voice came out low, depressed. "I don't want to."_

_Booth bent down, placing one knee on the ice. "Why?"_

"_I'm dreaming. I have to be. And if I'm dreaming of you here, in your world, then Booth, I have to have lost you." She shook her head. "I don't want to get up if I'm going back without you."_

"_Bones, you'd be fine without me."_

"_I don't want to be fine without you. I want to be fine _with_ you." She couldn't hold in the tears anymore._

_Booth looked at her sadly. He wiped her tears and held her close. "Bones?"_

"_What?" She asked, her reply muffled by his jersey._

"_Open your eyes."_

"_No."_

"_Open 'em. Trust me."_

_She looked up at him._

_***_

Brennan was conscious before she opened her eyes. She was afraid of what she would be waking up to. Booth appearing in her dreams when he was so sick was not a good sign, in her opinion. But he had said to trust her. And that she did. When she couldn't take being in limbo any longer she opened, looking around.

Sun light was streaking in through the window. It was morning. Brennan was still curled up tight against Booth's side. She knew she had to look at him. Fear needed to be eradicated. No matter what had happened, she knew in her heart she had done her best. She had loved him.

Counting to three, she raised her eyes to look at him. Booth was looking right back at her, half awake. There was a peacefulness in his eyes that she hadn't seen since before he had gotten sick.

Booth was awake.

Booth was alive.

Booth had won.

The End


End file.
